


Turn Back The Page

by MikaHaeli8



Series: Direct Me To The Sun [11]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Discussion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Mpreg, Past Relationship(s), Photographs, unborn twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaHaeli8/pseuds/MikaHaeli8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How it could get dusty in such a short space of time, he would never understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Back The Page

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, it's been six months since the last part was published and for that I'm sorry *_* but here is part 11! Enjoy. ~Mika

_Cobb, 11:38: so everything and everyones okay_ _then_

Eames scanned the small screen for a long time before replying.

_Bout the same as your end. Not much happening_

He hit ‘Send’, set the phone down and picked up the vacuum cleaner with the aim of cleaning the carpet for the sixth time that week. How it could get dusty in such a short space of time, he would _never_ understand.

“Wow,” an accented voice sounded from his left. “You have officially overtaken me as the neat freak of the family.”

Uncharacteristically, Eames dropped the hoover and almost flung himself into Arthur’s arms, winding the American in surprise.

“Hello to you too,” Arthur chuckled.

“Mmmmmm,” the heavily pregnant Englishman replied, burying his face in Arthur’s neck. He inhaled and was instantly calm, pregnancy-induced OCD evaporating. “Missed you,”

“I can tell.” Arthur rubbed Eames’ back soothingly, his own face crushed against the other man’s shoulder. The force of breathing in Eames’ smell through Arthur’s restricted nostrils calmed the younger man instantly – he was _home_.

Eventually, they disentangled. Arthur looked around, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You really _do_ get bored when you’re not working,”

“What else am I meant to do? Sit and wait for the Finns to come back and plug two in my chest?” Eames snapped, pinching the space between his eyes. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Arthur swallowed, _déjà vu_ creeping up on him once again. “Plug two in your chest,” he repeated vaguely.

Eames lifted his head slowly, the look on his face unreadable. He suddenly remembered the photograph of Arthur and the pregnant brunette for no real reason at all. He also had a feeling, although pregnancy exacerbated his instincts and brought new ones to the fore, that Arthur’s repetition and the photograph were connected.

“Arthur, I found a photograph.”

Because if he didn’t say it, it would be a secret at the bottom of their respective hearts, festering eternally.

It was Arthur’s turn to lift his head, eyes narrowed, tiredness and jet lag forgotten. “ _What?_ ”

Eames didn’t react to that. “Shall we have some caffeine before we continue this conversation?”

“You can’t have much caffeine,” was what Arthur whipped back with. There was no anger in his voice; it was merely an automatic reaction.

“I meant the journalistic use of ‘we’. As in, inclusive of the other party.” Eames pressed his hands to the small of his back before venturing into the kitchen. “You’re right, I had my daily maximum for breakfast this morning. You, however, are not pregnant and therefore you can have as much as you like, you lucky bugger.”

Arthur wandered after Eames into the kitchen, observing the softened contours of the other man’s body. Silently, he padded over and wrapped his arms around the other man’s torso, hands resting on his swollen stomach, giving him a small, apologetic squeeze.

“Coffee?” Eames asked, placated.

“Please.”

Arthur gracefully let Eames go long enough to make their respective hot drinks and pad back into the living room with them. They sat on opposite sofas, Arthur wired with tension and Eames disappearing into the back of his, trying to take some of the weight off.

“What about that photo?”

It was so quiet, Eames almost missed it. “The photo?”

Nelly chose that moment to say hello to Arthur, whole body wagging with excited energy. Arthur absent-mindedly fussed her as he replied, “Exactly. What about it?”

Eames uttered a growl of frustration. “It’s you, _several_ years younger and looking relaxed and happy and well-fed, _for once_ – don’t argue with me, my mum’s made the same comment – and you have your arm around a very pretty young lady. A brunette. Oh yeah, and she looks like she’s four months pregnant with your child. So, is there something you’ve neglected to tell me, Arthur?”

“Shit.” Arthur leaned forward and pressed the heels of his hands into his hands. “Laurenne.”

“Laurenne?” Eames frowned, massaging the small of his back. “Who’s she?”

“She…” Arthur took a deep breath. “She was my wife.”

This sucked all the air out of Eames’ lungs. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t _this_. “Your… _wife_?”

Arthur nodded, hands clasped. “Years ago. Long before I met you. It was a whirlwind thing. Then she…she got pregnant. I couldn’t just leave her – I mean…” He trailed off, struggling for the right words.

“You couldn’t abandon her when she was pregnant with your baby,” Eames finished softly, hands over his own bump.

Arthur nodded, lifting his head to meet Eames’ eyes. “I may be a criminal, but I’m not dishonourable. You know this. Anyway…there was a job I took when she was in her first trimester. It…went wrong. Horribly so. The people we were dealing with, they wouldn’t kill the members of the team themselves. They’d go for their loved ones instead.”

Once again, Eames found he couldn’t breathe. “And they…they found her?”

The American nodded. “She was five months gone. I’d left the house – I’d left her for maybe a _second_. Just…a milk run, you know. When I came back…” His breathing became tightened, as if he was being strangled by an unseen hand. “There was blood everywhere. Her…She’d had her neck broken, been shot...”

“Oh, love.” Eames hauled himself up, lowering himself next to his other half and wrapping a thick arm around thin shoulders. Arthur allowed himself to relax into the sensation, instinctively curling up to the other man. “And you didn’t tell me this before…why? I mean, how long have we been married?”

“I know. I’m an ass,” was all Arthur said in response, muffled by Eames’ maternity clothes. “Hey, this is new. The shirt, I mean.”

“To you,” Eames grumbled as one of the twins shifted. “I’ve outgrown all my regular clothes and had to get Ariadne to buy some for me.”

Arthur chuckled. “She’s too good to you.”

“Tell me about it. I owe her dinner or something.”

“I think you’re gonna owe her an entire restaurant by the time these two are born.” Arthur’s fingers danced over Eames’ swollen bump. “They been good for you?”

“As good as unborn children can be. Kicking regularly, probably at each other but mostly me.”

“Aww.” Arthur slipped out of Eames’ grasp and moved smoothly to kneel at the other man’s feet on the floor. “They been giving you a hard time?”

“Hmmm,” Eames rumbled, shifting so his legs bracketed Arthur’s body. “Believe me, it’s not as pleasant as the, ahem, hard time you normally give me,”

Arthur smirked, rolling Eames’ shirt up and planting a kiss on his very round belly. “Let’s change that, hmm?”

“Gladly, love.” Eames slid down, legs spreading wider, whole body pliant for the only other man who knew it as well as he himself did.


End file.
